French Bundling
by lavenderspark
Summary: Extended Scene from ep1.05


"_That_ is not bundling," she gasped, lifting her head.

He chuckled, pulling her to him. "Well," he said, tucking his face in her neck, "it is in France."

She laughed, running her fingers across his back. He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at her. She smiled up at him, her eyes full of joy and contentment. She amazed him. His emotions were swirling inside, so many things he hadn't felt in over a century.

He leaned down and kissed her softly, "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Your scent is... Intoxicating. I couldn't help myself. You have no idea what it does to me," he said, brushing hair from her face.

His eyes were dark as he looked into hers, a shiver running down her spine. "I think I might," she whispered, swallowing thickly.

He lifted an eyebrow at her, but stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. Her heart racing, she tried to find the words.

"I can feel it, when you look at me. Not just that sense of being stared at, but _feel_ it on my skin. Sometimes it's like a cool breeze, gentle and comforting. Other times it's like ice, hard and intense. I can feel where your eyes are," she said, her voice turning husky, "it's maddening when you stare, but refuse to touch."

"Hmm," he hummed, a smile spreading across his face. "I see," he said, pulling back from her.

She pushed up onto her elbows to watch him. He moved so that she could lay back on the pillows next to him. When she settled, he leaned over her, inhaling her scent from her neck. He looked down at her, eyes dark, "Do you trust me?"

"Always," she whispered.

"Close your eyes."

She looked at him quizzically, but complied, settling back into the pillows more comfortably. She felt the mattress shift as he moved away from her on the bed, stopping near her feet.

She waited anxiously, unsure of what he was planning. Then she felt it; a cool, gentle caress along the side of her face, sliding down to rest on her lips. Her breath caught, tongue darting out to moisten her lips. The sensation lingered a moment, then moved along her jaw. She lifted her head, opening her neck to him, she felt his gaze sweep down, stopping at her pulse point. The cold intensified, she gasped, hands gripping the sheets, her heart racing.

He could hear her blood rushing, smell the spike in her adrenaline. He finally pulled his eyes from her neck, moving down her shoulder, to her arm, to her hands, her fingers still tangled in the sheets. He smiled softly, maddening indeed. He turned his gaze back to her face, her eyes still closed. Her lips parted as he looked at them, she pulled in the lower lip as if to savor the sensation. He watched, fascinated, as it returned, slightly swollen.

She moaned softly, feeling his eyes on her lips again. Her body felt like it was on fire, screaming for contact, but she knew there wouldn't be any. She lay as still as she could, her breathing ragged, butterflies swirling in her stomach. She could feel his cool caress slide along her collar bone, skimming the edge of her camisole. She held her breath, waiting for him to go lower. Her breath escaped in a frustrated whimper as his gaze skipped to her abdomen, only to hitch as he traced the waistline of her leggings, her hips. Her legs grew restless, falling open as he gazed at her thighs; the icy sensation leaving a trail of fire.

"Matthew," she rasped, pleading.

He looked up at her face, her eyes squeezed shut, cheeks flushed. She was glorious, he was fighting with himself not to touch her. He dropped his eyes to her lips, still parted, inviting him in. He licked his own lips, imagining them pressed to hers. A shudder rippled through him and his dark gaze flew to her breasts. She keened, arching under the intense cold, nipples straining against the satin.

She felt like she would explode if he didn't touch her soon. Her hands ached from clenching the sheets, her breath came out in desperate whimpers. But she refused to open her eyes, trusting him with his sweet torture.

His weight was on her before she felt the bed shift, he claimed her lips as she gasped. He growled low in his throat, pressing into her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping along his scalp. He bucked into her, slamming his hips into hers. She saw stars, fingers digging into his shoulders, his name ripped from her throat. She felt him shudder against her before he shifted his weight to his elbows. She felt his fingers brushing the hair from her face, she sighed, leaning into his touch.

"Open your eyes Diana," he said softly.

She opened them slowly, letting her eyes adjust to the light before seeking out his face. When her eyes met his, they were soft, content. His lips were curled in a satisfied smile. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, he closed his eyes, humming quietly.

"Still not bundling," she whispered.

He dropped his head, laughing deeply against her chest. He placed a kiss against the hollow of her throat and lifted his head to look at her. Her eyes sparkled and her lips were wide with a happy smile.

"Are you sure? I swear that's how we did it here in France," he said with a smile.

"Well, I suppose you would know better since you were there," she quipped.

"I was and I can teach you many things that your books cannot," he said, lifting an eyebrow.

"I look forward to it."


End file.
